


to be born good

by dark_brohood



Series: Elder Scrolls One-Shots [10]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Existential Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21665695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_brohood/pseuds/dark_brohood
Summary: “What is better–to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?”
Series: Elder Scrolls One-Shots [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1110678
Kudos: 19
Collections: Holiday TES Fanfic Fest!





	to be born good

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [sheogorathsbeard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheogorathsbeard/pseuds/sheogorathsbeard) in the [Holiday_TES_Fanfic_Fest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Holiday_TES_Fanfic_Fest) collection. 



“What is better–to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?”

M’zhinda stared up at Paarthurnax, the bitter cold wind that swallowed the Throat of the World ruffling her fur. She thought back to her last three years–the Dark Brotherhood, the Thieves Guild, murdering and plundering whatever she could so she could leave Rivenhold, leave her horrid life of slavery. The wind tugged at her shrouded robes, and she felt her blood turn heavy.

Paarthurnax launched himself off the broken Word Wall he was perched on, leaving the young Khajiit to ponder his words by herself.

She closed her eyes, remembering Mercer, remembering Astrid, remembering the burning heat she had only just survived because the Night Mother had saved her. The Blade of Woe hummed from its place on her belt as she remembered plunging it into Astrids heart.

All her hurt and pain could have been avoided if she had just stayed in Rivenhold, stayed under that Imperial slaver.

_No_ , she thought, _this one can’t think like this. If it wasn’t for those friends, those people she called family, she wouldn’t be here today._

Did she regret those things? No. Never. Those were some of her best years. But did those words leave a heavy weight in her heart, in her veins, in her soul?

Absolutely.

She was better than she had been just six months earlier. She was on her way to save the world, and was helping the Blades defeat the dragon threat. She had only gone up to the top of the mountain because Delphine had asked her to kill the old dragon, and she didn’t know what to do.

But there was no way she was killing Paarthurnax, no way. Because he was right–it was better to overcome your evil nature through great effort than to be born wholly and completely good. It meant that you were strong enough to throw away the way you were raised, and make an effort to change who you were for the better of the world.

M’zhinda left the top of the Throat of the World, Paarthurnax flying lazily around its peak, not saying anything. She didn’t speak until she got to Whiterun, and even then she didn’t go straight to Dragonsreach to tell Jarl Balgruuf to set up the trap. No, she unlocked the door to Breezehome and stared at the interior of the small house.

There were several Daedric artefacts laying around on her tables and shelves, small pots sitting on the windowsills full of plants she used to make her poisons–canis root, deathbell, some gleamblossom from the darkness of Darkfall Cave, and even one or two crimson nirnroot from the depths of Blackreach. Spell tomes she was in the middle of reading and journals she used to take notes in were shoved onto the shelves, as well as piece after piece of parchments detailing different recipes for potions and poisons stuck between them.

All in all, it was a mess.

Could _she_ change as much as Paarthurnax had? She hoped so. But the first step towards redemption was to first acknowledge your mistakes, and M’zhinda stripped out of her Black Hand robes. She left them in a pile next to the door, and climbed up the steps that led to the second floor and went into her bedroom. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and different enchanted pieces of armour and robes were piled on top of the bed.

She decided she’d clean this place up once she finished saving the world, but now wasn’t the time.

She dug through the piles of armour, robes, and clothes, searching for something she could wear. She was sure there were something she could wear instead of her Black Hand robes.

She found a set of robes she had gotten from a Vigilant of Stendarr that she had been planning to sell, but forgot to. She wasn’t sure what the enchantment was, but she could figure it out later. She pulled it on, as well as some boots that had a muffle enchantment, and then set about trying to find a dagger she _didn’t_ get from a cult of assassins. She found an elven dagger that pulsed red, and attached it to her belt.

When she left the house, she took a deep breath. Then she stepped forward, determined to change her life.

What is better–to become good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?

She was about to find out.


End file.
